Very well written, Bjorn and great to see a poem in here. I haven’t been writing much poetry lately and am doing much more flash, although that’s largely to prompts. I really love the flash format.
xx Rowena

I started reading and thought to myself: goodness, Bjorn has become rather mean and bloodcurdling since I last checked in with dVerse… took me a while to realise it was a vampire story. Mind you, I’m not sure that a vampire would say please at all…

I’ve never written a vampire story but I have a good friend who does. She convinced me I was not equipped to be a vampire author. You, however have given us a chilling yet vivid story in a sonnet written in iambic tetrameter. Your disguise is unmasked. You are a true poet!

My husband and I just saw the 1920’s version of Nosferatu at our local theater. A band called the Invincible Czars played a score they created to go with the film. Your piece reminded me of that fun evening. Thanks.
So many great lines but this – still your heart to break my chains – is my favorite.

I believe I already gave this a “Hot DAMN!” in regards to the hair pulling but let me also mention the excellence of the following lines “Sweet maiden say your evening prayer, I love your scream as night turns black.” Love it.

Oooo, he’s horribly seductive. Well done, Björn.
Why is it that vampires have such sex appeal, as I can’t think of anything sexy about having someone bite my neck and drain me of blood? And yet, we’re fascinated by them.
I had contemplated writing a vampire book set in the time of the Napoleonic Wars — well, I’m still thinking about it in the back of my mind — and had started some research about them. There’s a little book on my shelf at home titled “Fact or Fiction? The History And Mystery Of Vampires”. It’s okay but a little lightweight. I much prefer your poem, which says much more about the subject than the 47-page book does.

I’ll let you in on a little secret: Every time I read this, I actually think of wonton soup … the “moon” (one of those dumplings) floating in your soup bowl while you prepare to eat “her” at a Chinese restaurant. Read it like that; it all becomes suddenly very funny — like this whole intense, emotional experience is just about you getting your dinner. Hilarious. 🙂 Then she just keeps bobbing around in your bowl while you try to stab her with your fork, but you just can’t quite get there.